


Saved the Best for Last

by insominia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Communication? What Communication?, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Castiel, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Sam is a Saint, Self-Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 23:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17273348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insominia/pseuds/insominia
Summary: Arguably, he had had greater moments. But right now, lying on Dean Winchester's bed, in Dean Winchester's room while Dean Winchester kissed away his bruises, Castiel would deny that any of them even came close to this.





	Saved the Best for Last

Her name was Aubree with a double 'e' and Dean was going home with her.

Well, maybe not home, but he was going to go somewhere with her. That much had been obvious from the moment she'd set their menus down and asked them - asked _Dean_ \- if there was anything he liked the look of. Sam had rolled his eyes into the back of his skull because seriously? They had only stopped for dinner. _Dinner_ , that was it, now they'd have to wait while Dean went off and did his thing and maybe they should consider two cars next time?

Sitting beside Dean, Castiel was looking between his friend and Aubree as though he couldn't quite decide which of them he wanted to smite first. Dean didn't notice. He didn't notice when Castiel passed on food either, but then the angel rarely ate so that was hardly unusual. Dean remained distracted throughout the meal, he was just about finishing up when the waitress caught his eye and disappeared into a back room with a wink.

Grinning, Dean rose and let a greasy napkin fall to the plate, "catch you guys later," and he disappeared into the same back room.

"Unbelievable," Sam sighed, turning to complain about his brother to the angel, but he never got the chance. Castiel forced himself from the booth, the anger radiating off him as he strode out of the diner, his trench coat billowing out behind him.

* * *

 

Outside, Castiel didn't stop to consider where he was or what he was going to do. He just stalked off, the rage coursing through him served to heat him against the biting chill of the winter air. This wasn't the first time Dean had hooked up with a random fling, it certainly wouldn't be the last and after all, if Castiel wasn't prepared to actually tell Dean how he felt the man was hardly responsible for the intense rage surging through Castiel right now. Still, that fact did little to appease the angel who wondered, _again_ , how Dean could look at him the way he did and still leave with another.

Always another.

_Any_ other.

The indignation, the anger, the outrage, all of it, it suddenly left Castiel in a rush; a sudden exhale and it was gone. He wasn't angry anymore and he stopped walking, abruptly, falling harshly against the nearest wall. It was freezing, below freezing even but Castiel didn't notice. He was tired, every ounce of his being could weep with exhaustion, he was just so tired of being hurt like this. So tired of Dean's eyes on him, longing, pleading before he would turn away and leave with someone else. There was always an Aubree nearby ready to indulge and it never took Dean long to find them. How could it? Castiel closed his eyes and sighed, Dean was the most exquisite, the most beautiful thing Castiel had ever beheld, of course, he never had to look far for an Aubree.

If anything, he supposed he should be grateful that Dean never stuck around long enough for them to get to know him. If they did, if they could appreciate the depths of his goodness, of just how perfect he was...Castiel wasn't sure if he could deal with that part.  
It wasn't fair on Dean that the angel got angry like this, Castiel reasoned, but then it wasn't fair on him that Dean could so openly pine for him yet reject him for another, _every single time_.

Castiel shivered, the movement, however involuntary bringing him back to reality. He looked around himself, realising that he didn't know where he was, that he had allowed himself to walk without paying attention to his surroundings. Now he was in...an alleyway? A back street? It was the rough part of town, Castiel had been with the Winchester's long enough to recognise that. A dozen feet or so away a handful of men eyed him suspiciously waiting to see what Castiel would do, why he had seen fit to wander in and disrupt their activities like this.

Another small sigh, even if one of the men hadn't been glaring at him malevolently, Castiel would have known that this was not the place where legitimate commerce occurred. He hadn't meant to interrupt them, besides as an angel of the lord he wasn't in even the smallest modicum of danger. If he were inclined to, and he was not, he could obliterate them all with a thought, they posed no threat to him.

And yet, Castiel thought, he was weary, exhausted and if he was honest he was hurting, deep inside where he hadn't known he could hurt. Maybe that was why when the men approached and _encouraged_ him to be on his way Castiel just shrugged. And when the first man's fist connected harshly with his ribs, Castiel found he didn't really care at all.

* * *

 

Sam was the first to the Impala having drawn out his meal for as long as humanly possible yet still managing to find the time to lose himself in a second-hand bookstore. He shuddered, pulling his jacket tighter around himself as the first flakes of snow started picking its way down from the heavens. Without meaning to he frowned, hoping Dean would find his way back before the snow turned on them and they couldn't leave.

His attention was distracted by movement on the other side of the car park. Even at this distance, Sam could recognise Castiel's distinctive silhouette and he relaxed, leaning against Baby, waiting for the angel to cross the lot.  
Castiel had barely taken two steps forward when Sam had straightened up, the temperature forgotten, adrenaline suddenly spiking as he realised something was off with Cas' gait. Was he _limping_?

Sam was about to take off across the lot towards the angel when Dean appeared, slapping Sam on the shoulder as he passed, "c'mon we gotta go, I don't wanna be here when she loses her job for what we just did in the storeroom," he grinned and raised his eyebrows, "it was _real_  unhygienic."

Sam scoffed and turned, but now Castiel was beside them and maybe Sam had imagined the limp because there really weren't that many things that could have caused it and looking at the angel now it was clear he hadn't been locked in battle with any of them. He looked ruffled, his hair wild, his clothes unkempt, but then the wind was picking up and the snow falling faster so maybe he just got caught in a spot of bad weather.

Castiel was about to slip into the backseat when Sam touched his arm and said, softly, so Dean wouldn't hear, "hey man, you ok?"

"Fine," came the curt reply as he climbed in, shutting the door with slightly more of a slam than was necessary. Sam paused, his hand on the passenger door, regarding Castiel, he wasn't fine but Dean shouted, "in or out Sammy, just close the freaking door!' and he didn't have time to think on it.

* * *

 

The snow did not worsen as they made their way back to the bunker. Sam kept his eyes on Castiel for the duration of the journey. On the backseat Castiel was leaning his forehead against the window, staring out into the grey haze. Had Dean looked back he would have marveled at how the mist outside could only illuminate Castiel's impossibly blue eyes, but Dean didn't. His eyes never wavered from the road, his thumb tapping a beat against the steering wheel, his head bobbing as he sang along to whatever was playing through Baby's speakers.

In the bunker, the three of them drifted off, as they often did after a case. They would shower, eat, rest, read, watch TV, whatever, but they would do it alone, none of them had to announce that they needed just a moment after the close living of a case. They would come together later in the evening as though they had never been apart.

Sam would usually shut himself in his room and breathe out, but not this time. This time he went to Castiel's room, or at least the room in which Castiel kept his spare coats and didn't sleep. He tapped the door but received no answer. Frowning, Sam tried again. Castiel was in there, he knew it and it wasn't like he'd suddenly decided to catch a nap. Sam had been concerned before he knocked, but now he was positively worried as he turned the handle to the door, "Hey Cas, are you al-" Sam broke off, worry taking a vaulting leap into panic as the door opened silently and he saw why Castiel hadn't answered.

The angel had shucked off his trench coat, it lay pooled in a pile on the floor. Castiel himself was sitting in an armchair, his head in his hands which in itself would have been alarming had Sam's eyes not been instantly drawn to the spatters of blood on his dress shirt.

A dozen questions assaulted Sam's brain at once and in the time it took him to cross the room he'd managed to breathe out a few of them.

_What happened?_  
_Are you hurt?_  
_How bad is it?_  
_Is that your blood?_  
_Who did this?_  
_Why didn't you say anything?_

He was on his knees before Castiel, on the verge of shouting for his brother when the angel bit out, "I'm fine, Sam."

Despite himself, Sam sighed in relief, relieved that Cas had actually spoken and wasn't somehow lost to them.

"What happened?"

Castiel's eyes never left the space on the floor between them, "I think...I got into a fight."

Sam might have laughed at how serious yet innocent Castiel sounded. He leant back on his haunches and exhaled a long breath, relief seeping into his every fiber.

"You got into a fight," Sam said, "so this isn't your blood?"

Castiel made to shrug but he winced at the motion and let out an involuntary hiss of pain.

Instantly, Sam was frowning again and leaning forward he unbuttoned the top button of Castiel's shirt, unable to stop himself from flinching at the sight of angry, purple bruises lining his neck, chest and probably the rest of him.

It was Cas' blood.

" _What_ did this?"

"Three gentlemen. One of them had what you would call knuckledusters."

"Why haven't you healed yourself?" Sam asked, but it had been a toss-up between that and how had three normal guys done this to an angel, knuckledusters or not?

"I didn't want to."

Sam was openly staring now, at a loss for what to say so he settled for the truth, "Cas, I don't understand."

Castiel stared back his expression haunted and pained as though he could convey everything he needed to with that look.

Eventually, he broke eye contact, looking away suddenly and he croaked out, "please, _please_ don't tell Dean."

And suddenly Sam understood everything.

* * *

 

Several days later and the worst of the bruises had faded, though Castiel could still feel them if he thought about it. It comforted him, it shouldn't but it did. When Dean looked at Castiel he did so in the way that someone would look at the sunrise, marvelling at its beauty, unashamedly reverent, and eventually, he would look away as though the angel were too bright to behold.

Castiel didn't know why Dean, _how_ Dean, could look on him the way he did but never act on it. Clearly Dean had found something wanting in the angel and the rejection was already too much for Castiel to handle without asking him for the reason directly. Castiel had no intention of declaring his feelings for Dean, not when Dean had made his feelings perfectly clear with Aubree and Shona and Debbie and Linda...Castiel had been there every time.

Angels weren't meant to feel. Angels weren't meant to love, yet Castiel knew he had been in love the very moment his hand had rested on Dean's soul in perdition. He wasn't equipped to deal with those feelings and who could he ever talk to them about it? Hello, I am Castiel. I am older than creation. I have witnessed humanity from its first breath, I have led armies of angels and battled the very worst of hell's legions, but the human I like doesn't like me back and my soul hurts for it.

It sounded ridiculous, even to Castiel's ears. Almost without thinking, he pressed a finger harshly against a spot on his sleeve, a sleeve he knew concealed one of the angrier of his bruises and relaxed into the pain.

This he could deal with.

This made sense.

"Hey, Cas?" Dean called and Castiel swiftly dropped his arms to his side, unable to stop warmth spreading through his chest at the sound of Dean's voice.  
Dean was standing in a doorframe - in one hand a four pack of beer and a bag of popcorn, in the other a movie, though Castiel couldn't make out the title.

"Wanna join me?" Dean asked, his eyes wide and shining.

Cas positively beamed.

"Yes."

He would hate himself later, but for now, it was worth it as Dean grinned back, "Awesome."

* * *

 

Dean Winchester was no good at feelings at the best of times. Feelings that defied understanding, that transcended all reason and logic and generally made no sense, well there was no chance of him working his way through that.

He felt guilty he knew. He had felt guilty the minute the storeroom door had closed behind him and the waitress, whatever her name had been, had thrown herself at him. At first, he reasoned that he hadn't expected her to be quite so forthright and that was why he couldn't get into it. Dean kissed her and pushed her against the wall for good measure, she certainly seemed to appreciate the gesture.

Her eyes weren't blue.

Why that bothered him, Dean had nothing, but after ten minutes of grinding against him to no effect, the girl was getting somewhat frustrated. She'd shoved him lightly and he took a step back, "I thought we were...y'know..."

"Yeah, I thought so too," Dean shrugged, and because he a) didn't want a scene, b) couldn't quite face up to going back to his brother and having to explain himself and c) needed a moment to figure out what the hell was going on with him, he slipped from the back door and left her there.

Outside was freezing, thick white clouds gathered threateningly overhead and Dean the seasoned traveller, recognised the signs of impending snow. He glanced at his watch, he'd give it twenty minutes, less if the snow started up before he went to find Sam and Cas. For now, he found an old picnic bench tucked out of sight, already damp from the ambient chill. Judging by the smell and the carpet of cigarette butts this was where the staff came to smoke. Sam was unlikely to come across him here and with no one else in sight Dean had dropped down and tried to figure out what had happened _again_.

She'd been pretty, gorgeous even. She'd been interested, to say the least. She was all but wrapped around him when he'd stepped away with a _'thanks but no thanks_ '. What was up with that? Why had her body felt so wrong in his arms? Why were her lips uninviting on his own? Her eyes weren't blue and why did that matter? Dean had rubbed his hand over his face, what was wrong with him? Why did this keep happening? This was the second time, alright the third, _fine_. The fourth time he'd gotten hot and heavy with a chick only to give up at first base. It wasn't right, he didn't want them, he wanted-

_Nope_

He was not going there, forcing the sudden image of bright, blue eyes from his mind before it could properly take hold there. He'd been there before, it didn't end well. Nope, best to keep his mind on the situation at hand and not how every waking moment Dean didn't spend with Cas was spent wishing he was with Cas. Castiel, an angel, who had lived lifetimes before Dean and would go on lifetimes after him.

What was Dean to that?

What could Dean _possibly_ be to that?

At the car, Dean was all bravado, but he couldn't bring himself to look at Cas. Not right now. Not when all he could think about were those eyes. Instead, he turned his own eyes to the road and tried to distract himself with tunes. He feared what might happen if he looked at Cas not long after having rejected some chick for not being Cas.

So Dean did what he always did. He got back to the bunker, showered, changed, definitely didn't put on one of his nicer shirts and then he grabbed an excuse to spend time with Castiel. He was unable and unwilling to even attempt to hide how happy he was to see Castiel's radiant smile, because _yes_ it was radiant, over something as simple as a movie.

It was the little things that Dean loved. The small frown that creased Cas' brows when something happened he didn't quite understand, the way he would follow the minutiae of the plot, the way he would reach for the popcorn taking a single piece at a time because he did it out of mimicry more than a need or a desire for the taste of it. Dean spent more time watching Castiel than he did the film, committing it all to memory. If he couldn't have Cas he would store all of these moments up and pretend they were enough. Besides, Castiel had zero social experience so probably wasn't even aware of Dean's eyes upon him and if he was he certainly wouldn't have known what it meant.

It was because he was watching Cas so intently that Dean saw the moment Cas' face took on an expression of utter horror, a piece of popcorn halfway to his mouth now suspended, forgotten.

"Cas?" Dean asked, concerned, leaning forward. But Castiel hadn't heard him, his eyes wide and staring until Dean shook his shoulder, trying to recall him from wherever the angel was. " _Cas_?!"

Castiel flinched, dropping the popcorn, his unfocused and hazy eyes found Dean's and he said, "Dean," as though wounded.

Dean put his hands on the angel's shoulders, "what's wrong buddy?"

"Why would opening the Ark of the Covenant melt your face? It contains the word of God."

Dean laughed, long and hard until it became too much to bear and he started choking. Somewhere inside him, he felt bliss; these moments with Cas were the closest Dean came to joy but always with the pang that it would never be more than this.

* * *

 

Her name was Andrea. Dean had had no intention of leaving with anyone but she was just his type and came onto him so hard that if Dean had turned her down for drinks with his brother and their bestie, Sam would have wondered why, and Dean wasn't prepared to have that conversation with himself let alone with his brother. And yes, he could admit that this was overkill to leave with a woman he had no intention of leaving with, just so that Sam wouldn't ask questions, but he left with her anyway and made it to the end of the street before he sent her on her way. He accepted the slap as just payment.

Sam had seen it just as he had seen Aubree return to work not ten minutes after Dean had gone after her.

Castiel had not.

If he had he wouldn't have ended up sitting on the edge of the bath in the motel while Sam cleaned up the worst of his cuts.

"I don't even know why you don't just do this yourself," Sam muttered, using a cotton wool pad to clean a cut on Castiel's back. The angel had at least healed the black eye and the split lip, the parts he didn't want Dean to see.

"Cas, he...he didn't even go off with her," he said, but Castiel scoffed. They hadn't talked directly about what Castiel was doing, they hadn't needed to. Sam knew.

"I saw him leave with her," Castiel muttered, "I know you're trying to make me feel better but your efforts are misplaced."

Sam sighed, "what's going on with you, man?"

But Castiel remained silent and slipped on his trench coat. Sam sighed again, running a hand through his hair, "alright, just...just be careful?"

Castiel might have nodded, or maybe he was just moving that way anyway. He at least heeded Sam's warning...until he didn't.

Dean was out. There wasn't a woman involved but there had been a suggestion, the implication of a woman, even though Castiel had just helped Dean make burgers and the two had exchanged ridiculously long stares while doing so. So Castiel did what he always seemed to be doing these days whenever Dean upset him. He went looking for a fight. Sometimes he fought back. Sometimes he even let himself win, most times he let it happen. There was some perverse satisfaction in holding back, in letting them hurt him. It was fitting that his vessel should mirror the pain he felt inside. Though, if Jimmy's body could ever accurately reflect Castiel's pain it would obliterate him. Yet, it was strangely comforting to have this physical outlet for this inner hurt he was carrying. It made it easier to see Dean at any rate. But on his worse days, he'd need Sam who would clean him up in stony silence.

Today was one of those days.

Dean was out.

Sam was asleep.

Castiel shook him awake and Sam glanced up at him groggy and bleary-eyed.

"That's going to need stitches."

* * *

 

It came to a head a few months later.

Sam had been increasingly determined to stop when he finally said, "I'm not doing this again. I don't know why the hell you're doing this, but I'm done."

"Sam..."

"Save it. This isn't right."

"I'm not in any danger-"

"Yeah and that makes it worse somehow."

Dean paused in the kitchen. He was back early but hadn't expected to come home to raised voices. He followed the sound down the hallways and found himself outside of Castiel's room. He would have pushed the door, strode in to find out why the two most important people in his world were arguing but his hand froze at Sam's suddenly clipped tones.

" _Tell. Dean_."

"I can't, Sam."

"Ok fine. You can't and I won't, but this," Dean could picture Sam's motions exactly, "whatever this is, it's done. We're _done_. I'm not doing this again, Cas. I care too much about you and Dean to carry this on. It stops, _now_."

Dean drew his hand back and stared at the door, an unknowable feeling rising within him.

"Sam..."

"No Cas. No more."

Dean slipped into the vacant room opposite before Sam could open the door and find him there. Through the crack, Dean saw Sam storm out, his expression furious while behind him Cas was sitting on the bed he never slept in, sliding his bare arms into a shirt.  
Dean allowed himself to slide to the ground, his back against the wall and sat, in the darkness, allowing the numbness that spread through him to take hold.

* * *

 

It was sometime later, maybe minutes, might have been hours before Dean stirred himself and went up to the kitchen area where he found Sam.

"Dean!" Sam jumped, almost dropping the fruit salad he'd been preparing, "I didn't know you were back."

Dean stared at Sam as though he were a stranger. How could he just stand there making a snack having done what he'd done? Aware that his brother had neither replied or moved Sam looked back and Dean must have looked like hell as Sam dropped the knife in his hand, "Dean? What's wrong?"

Still, Dean said and did nothing. Sam was approaching him, all concern and worry and Dean took a step back, he didn't want his brother anywhere near him right now. "How long?" he managed to croak, his voice rough, so much so that Dean hadn't made out the words.

" _How long_?!" Dean roared, there was no mistaking him now.

Sam held his hands up defensively, backing away slowly, his eyes a very picture of confusion.

"You and Cas," Dean said, feeling his stomach knot as he spoke those words, "how long?"

"Me and Cas?"

Dean's fingers tensed into a fist and he held his arm rigid lest he smack his brother in the face. How could he do all this and have the gall to pretend he didn't know what Dean was talking about?

"Yeah, y'know the whole 'I can't do this anymore', 'we're done', leaving Cas to get dressed-" Dean snarled, "you didn't think-" he broke off before he could say something he didn't want to give voice to. Not in front of Sam, not right now, not like this.

The silence stretched out between them, Sam's face impassive as he worked through what Dean was saying. Dean could pinpoint the very moment Sam caught on, there was a moment of realisation blooming behind his eyes, a heartbeat before it died and Sam was done. He threw his hands up and for a moment Dean hesitated.

"You know what," Sam was saying, "you guys can sort this out yourselves. I'm out." He stalked over to the hallway, " _Cas_!" he barked, but did not stop to check if he was coming. There was something in his voice that brooked no argument. He picked up the keys to the Impala and even in his current state Dean started to protest.

"Whoah, whoah whoah, what d'you-"

But he fell silent when Sam turned on him and even though Sam was Dean's brother and posed him no harm Dean took half a step back from the intensity he saw in his face.

"You two are gonna talk," Sam snapped, just as Cas appeared in the doorway, " _and_ ," he rounded on the angel, "if you bail, I'm gonna tell him everything."

"Sam?" Castiel practically gasped, unsure what he'd walked in on.

But with that Sam was gone, cursing under his breath leaving a silence behind him that reminded Dean of the apocalypse.

* * *

 

For a long time, neither of them moved. Castiel was staring at a distant spot on the floor while Dean's eyes never left the bunker door as though he expected Sam to step back through it at any moment.

He didn't and eventually, the silence was broken by the text tone of Dean's phone. Dean frowned, it was Sam. three words: _Talk to him_. He glanced up to see Castiel staring blankly at his own phone, Sam had obviously sent him the same.

Letting out something between a sigh and a groan Dean moved towards the counter, "alright then, this is happening." Dean grabbed two beers from the fridge grateful to find Castiel sitting at the counter, it saved him from having to call the angel over.  
Still, there was silence, only broken by the familiar clink and hiss as Dean removed the tops of the beer and slid a bottle to Cas.

"So," Dean grunted, preferring to lean rather than sit. "You and Sam?" He surprised himself at how level his voice sounded, as though it didn't tear his gut apart to have to say those words.

Castiel finally looked up at Dean, he looked more confused than Sam had.

"What?"

"You...you and Sam. Y'know, together..." Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, more so he wouldn't have to expand on what he was saying but Castiel continued to stare up at him with those beautiful, blue, confused eyes.

' _Dammit_ ,' Dean thought but tried again, "so were you guys dating, or...just..." Castiel continued to stare and Dean knew he was nowhere near a good enough actor to pretend he didn't know what Dean was talking about this hard. "Come on man, help me out, you dating my brother?"

There was another silence, one in which Dean could feel his stomach turning itself inside out, preparing for the inevitable as Castiel seemed to consider, actually consider his words before he responded.

"Dean," he said, as calmly and evenly as he had ever said anything, "I am not now, nor have I ever been in a relationship with your brother."

The relief that exploded through Dean's body was enough to make him lightheaded and for a moment he swayed, having to grip the counter to steady himself until his fingers blanched white from the pressure. He could hear his heartbeat throbbing in his ears, drowning out everything else and he let out a shaky exhale.

"You're not...you weren't...you know?"

Castiel continued to stare blankly, "I _don't_ know."

Dean smacked a palm down on the counter, "dammit, Cas! I thought you were boning my brother!" Now that he knew that it wasn't the case it didn't hurt him to say so, but he couldn't stop the blush creeping into his cheeks.

"Why would you think I was _"boning"_ your brother?" 

"Oh I don't know, maybe coz I heard the two of you arguing. 'Heard Sam telling you he was done, saw you putting-" Dean broke off, the idea suddenly hitting him, "wait...if you weren't boning what the hell were you two doing?"

Castiel flinched and looked away quickly, too quickly, as his phone chirped again.

_I will tell him if you don't._

Dean glimpsed the message and wondered if Sam really knew them that well of if he'd bugged the bunker some time and was listening to all this unfold from the safety of a diner twenty miles away.,

"Sam has been...helping me, with some things," Castiel's eyes found Dean's again, "something I'd rather not talk about."

Another chirp.

_I mean it._

Dean nodded as though he understood when in truth he still had no clue what was going on. His shoulders dropped, one thing he had at least gleaned from all of this was that Cas didn't trust Dean nearly as much as Dean thought he had.

"You uh...couldn't come to me with it?"

"No."

"So much for that profound bond thing," Dean mumbled into his beer.

At that Castiel snapped his head up, "Dean," he cried, pained, as though it physically hurt him to hear Dean questioning their friendship, or whatever it was. There was a note of anguish there that Dean couldn't deal with and he pushed his bottle away," screw this."

The realisation that this was it, that of all the things he had ever done it could be _this_ that broke his bond with the Winchesters dawned on Castiel and before Dean could take more than three steps, Cas' hand came on his shoulder, stopping him short suddenly.

"Dean, wait."

And Dean did. He turned to face Cas though he felt like he'd aged a dozen years in as many seconds. His eyes almost popped out of his skull when he realised that Cas' fingers were undoing his shirt buttons for some reason.

"Ok buddy, you wanna hold up on the-" Dean broke off as Castiel slipped off his shirt and suddenly everything around Dean faded into insignificance.

"Cas?!" he breathed, " _what the hell_?!"

All thoughts of annoyance, anger, betrayal, confusion, every emotion dissipated in the face of Castiel's bruises, some fresh, purple, some faded into almost nothingness, Dean wondered how Cas had been able to move with some of them. "What did this?"

Gently, without really realising he was doing so Dean walked Castiel back to the stool and sat him down.

"I have been..." Cas seemed to stare into nothingness, searching for the right words, "careless."

"Cas, you're gonna have to talk me through what's been happening coz I don't mind telling you, I got nothing."

"Angels weren't created to feel, Dean," Castiel bit out. "I'm unsure how to deal with some of the stronger emotions, the negative ones..so...this...happened. It felt better to leave them there than to heal them, except for those you might see."

Dean's fingers trailed over some of the cuts, he recognised that they'd been stitched up and he felt a pang of hurt and guilt that it had been Sam who had held Cas together and not Dean.

"So what, you've been getting roughed up because you can't handle being sad?"

"Sadness. Jealousy. Rejection. Hurt. Longing..." Castiel reeled them off like a litany before he sighed, "none of this is your fault, Dean. Your life is yours to do with as you wish, whatever unreciprocated feelings I harbour for you are not your responsibility and Sam has impressed upon me the importance of healthier coping mechanisms."

Castiel glanced up at Dean, but Dean seemed to be rooted to the spot, as though lightning had struck him, freezing him at that moment. Inside the war room of Dean's mind, half a dozen Deans in varying degrees of flannel and denim were running through half a dozen questions.

' _He's dealing with emotions, he said that - right?'_  
_'Unreciprocated feelings?'_  
_'So...these emotions are directed at me?'_  
_'But he said jealousy and longing and hurt and why would he have said that? What's he jealous of?_ '

Something inside Dean clicked and he blurted out without subtlety or finesse, "Cas? Why are you jealous, I haven't-"

"Your brother has already tried to assure me you've remained unattached." Dean flushed, Sam knew? "But I have eyes, Dean. I know that's false."

One of the Deans was hastily writing something, if Cas had looked up at that moment he would have seen the wheels inside Dean's head turning. Something had dawned on him, something he'd always known but rarely appreciated until it was too late - how utterly vulnerable Castiel was. He could smite an archangel with a finger snap but he had never really known what he'd meant to Sam and Dean, now Dean doubted he had been capable of knowing.

_Angels weren't meant to feel._

Dean took in the bruises.

_Sadness, jealousy, rejection, hurt, longing..._

The Deans in his mind were practically having a strategy meeting; he knew what he wanted to do, but what Dean wanted to do and what Castiel needed him to do were two different things. The Dean who was writing dropped his pen, several of those around him murmured their agreement, most of them while rolling their eyes. A couple of them shook their heads.

_No. No no no no no no no nope. Not happening._

"Cas," Dean breathed, stepping as close to the angel as he dared, "Cas you need to listen to me ok, you really need to listen. There hasn't been anyone, not since-" he broke off, alright so maybe feelings weren't so easy after all, "I know what you think, but there hasn't been-"

Castiel was looking up at him, his eyes bright and sad. Dean sighed, mentally throwing the paper away. The inner Dean with the pen could have wept.

"Cas this is all my fault."

"What?" Cas jerked as though Dean had struck him, "no! How?!"

Dean pulled Cas towards him, resting his cheek on Cas' head, letting Cas rest against his chest. "If I'd just told you...I'm sorry Cas," Dean breathed. When he pulled back, Castiel was looking up at him wondering what he'd missed that the conversation could have moved to this point.

"This is all my fault," Dean said again. And then Dean decided to do what he should have done at least a hundred times before; he leaned in and kissed Castiel.

* * *

 

Dean Winchester wasn't good at the feelings thing, having them or expressing them. He wasn't much good at the talking thing either.

Action he could do.

Action was good.

 

The kiss was not heated or passionate, yet Cas could have been in no doubt of Dean's intentions. It was soft, slow and achingly beautiful. Cas was falling, flying, melting and everything in between and his eyes felt damp as warmth flooded through him.

An age passed and when Dean had finished promising to love the angel for eternity, the only way he knew how, he rested his forehead against Castiel's.

"If I'd have thought for a moment I could do that without you smiting me..."

Castiel was looking up at Dean as though he were seeing the sunrise for the first time.

"You're an ass, Dean Winchester."

Dean snorted, "yeah, says you," he gestured to the expanse of Castiel's injuries. Then he took his hand and gave it a gentle tug, pulling Cas to his feet and leading him into the bunker, towards Dean's room.

* * *

 

What was bliss and had Castiel ever experienced it? He'd known complete and total security in heaven, surrounded by brothers and sisters, assured in the absoluteness of their mission. He had soared through dimensions the humans could only dream of and flown through the sky they could never reach, not the way he could. That was to say nothing of the countless triumphs and successes he had had in heaven. Arguably, he had had greater moments. But right now, lying on Dean Winchester's bed, in Dean Winchester's room while Dean Winchester kissed away his bruises, Castiel would deny that any of them even came close to this.

Castiel stretched out languidly, pressing his back against the sheet, arching whenever Dean pressed his lips to his skin. He felt better immediately. Somewhere in the recesses of his euphoric mind, he was aware that it wasn't Dean healing him, that it was his own grace drawn to Dean's touch. Either way, the effect was the same, whenever Dean kissed a bruise it glowed and disappeared. But when Dean had finished, when he had kissed away every cut, mark, and blemish, he didn't stop kissing him.

"If I'd known we could have had this," Dean was murmuring against Cas' hipbone, his breath ghosting over its sharp curve, "I never thought you'd be interested," he worked his way across Castiel's abdomen, kissing his way up to his neck, "figured coz you're an angel this is all..." he waved a hand somewhere, Cas didn't see it but he recognised the motion, "beneath you or something."

Cas reached up, his hand cupping Dean's jaw, stilling him, "I have loved you since I first saw your soul in hell and pulled you from there."

Dean smiled, "yeah? Well, I guess that makes two of us."

Cas pushed himself up on an elbow and kissed Dean at some point managing to switch their positions. "Now," Cas growled, nipping at Dean's earlobe, "what were you saying about being beneath me?"

Dean started to laugh but the sound quickly became something else as Cas shifted his weight and kissed him elsewhere.

* * *

 

Sam Winchester returned to the bunker a good few hours later, initially, he was relieved to find the place quiet. Cas and Dean must have talked through everything after all. But relief quickly turned to trepidation as the sound of broken glass crunched under his boots. He flipped a light switch but the bunker remained in darkness. The flashlight was out of his pocket in a heartbeat and looking up he saw that all the lights had blown - explaining the darkness and the shards at least.

"Dean?" he called, "Cas?"

Sam stepped his way down the hallway finding it much the same - no light and a carpet of broken glass. There was a flicker though, a warm glow coming from under Dean's door. Sam heard muffled voices that paused at the sound of glass underfoot.

"Sam?" Dean called, his voice wary.

"Dean?" Sam replied, pushing the door to. It opened slowly and he almost dropped the flashlight at the sight that greeted him. A small smattering of glass confirmed that Dean's room hadn't been exempted from whatever had torn through the bunker, that and he had lit several candles about the place which seemed to make the room more homely than it ever had been.

But Sam's eyes widened and his jaw was somewhere on the floor at the sight of Dean and Cas beside each other in bed.  
They weren't doing anything indecent, they weren't doing anything much of anything, they were just lying there. Propped up on pillows they lay, under covers, facing each other, though they had both turned to face Sam as he entered.

"Evening Sammy," Dean called, cheerily, as though this was were an everyday occurrence.

"Guys," Sam breathed, "what the hell happened?"

Dean snorted, "you want a diagram, perv."

But Castiel was regarding Sam with serious eyes, "your brother and I engaged in sexual interc-"

" _Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba_!" Sam snapped, "too much information, Cas!" But Dean was laughing, his eyes drawn back to the angel and nobody could mistake the soft look of adoration there. For a moment Sam paused, his heartwarming at just how happy Dean looked. "I meant the glass and the lights...did you guys blow the electrics?"

"We blew something," Dean smirked under his breath. 

"I'm sorry Sam," Cas said, a faint flush in his cheeks, "it seems I cannot control my grace at the moment of climax.,"

" _Jesus, Cas!_ "

"Gonna have to have a chat about appropriate conversation there, sweetheart," Dean smiled, running his fingers through Cas' hair absently.

"I intend to use my grace to clear it all," Cas added, looking hopefully at the younger Winchester.

"So, why don't you?" Sam frowned.

Again the flush in Cas' cheeks and Sam couldn't decide whether it was more adorable to see the angel blush uncertainly or see Dean melt at the sight.

"It uh...needs a moment to recharge..."

" _Jesus Christ, Cas!_ " but Dean was laughing again so Sam couldn't stay mad.

"Ok, well I'm glad you guys sorted stuff out and I'm gonna go and replace the bulbs in my room."

"I wouldn't bother, Sammy," Dean called as Sam turned away, "might wanna invest in candles," Sam pulled the door closed with a sharp slam, "and headphones!"

 

 

 

 


End file.
